


Oh No

by lasweetiebloom



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Romance, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3906934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasweetiebloom/pseuds/lasweetiebloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair realizes he's falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh No

_Oh no_. They say falling in love happens slowly. They also say it happens the first time you lock eyes. They say a lot of things, they do. What do they know? They are awfully full of it, you think, bending down to pick the single bud from the dead bush.

 _Oh no._ You see, falling in love happens in an instant, but it’s not the first one. It’s not the tenth, or the millionth, but somewhere in between. It’s before you go to Denerim and see their ex-boyfriend hawking shields and weapons across the marketplace from your sister’s house. But it’s definitely after she saves you from a genlock who somehow has a staff twice his size pointed directly at your face.

 _Oh no_. It’s the moment when you’re walking down the road and you see a rose growing in the middle of some black mush. It’s the moment when that rose suddenly reminds you of her even though you barely know her beyond her first name and that she only likes some of your jokes. It reminds you of how red her cheeks are in the sun when you’ve been walking for a few days. Falling in love is when you want to save that beautiful rose from the horrors around it because it deserves so much more than that. It’s the moment you pick that flower and carefully, ever so carefully, place it in your pack to save it.

 _Oh no_. Falling in love is going to the witch who seemingly hates your guts, and asking, cheeks stained pink, if she’ll help you. It’s accepting her laughter and snide remarks as she holds the rose, twirling it about much more harshly than you’d want. It’s the feeling of watching her face turn from annoyance to something soft you haven’t seen before on her features as you explain what you want done and why. Falling in love is watching the witch enchant it with one eye back towards camp to make sure she hasn’t come out of her tent yet.

 _Oh no_. It’s holding onto that flower for _months_ , waiting until just the right instant. It’s knowing she can’t be too sad or it’ll seem like you’re just trying to cheer her up. But she can’t be too happy either or it’ll just be part of a list. Can’t be daytime because that’s not romantic and it can’t be night because it’s too dark to see the twinkle in her blue eyes. Falling in love is practicing what you’re going to say over and over again until it’s just right.

 _Oh no_. Falling in love is mangling the whole thing anyway and making jokes about using the rose to fight the darkspawn. It’s watching her nose crinkle as she sniffs it, the scent foreign to her, and watching the grin spread over her face when she realizes she likes it. Falling in love is telling her exactly how you feel without saying it, tiptoeing around the actual words while calling her a thing and comparing her to a plant and she still thanks you and blushes and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

 _Oh no._ It’s telling her that you’re doing it for her when you’re really doing it for you. Because falling in love is selfish and human. You want her to know you love her in the horrible hope that she might one day feel the same way for you. Falling in love is the rush when you see that maybe she got the message after all, judging from the smile that won’t fall from her lips.

 _Oh no_. It’s feeling of soaring and falling all at once as she walks to her tent, the flower spinning gently in her fingers. It’s the stolen glances on the road and a brush of the hand reaching for the same sword. It’s the hours of terrible jokes that finally lead to one bright burst of laughter. It’s the wild mania that possesses you to sideline her in camp and ask if she’ll miss you when it’s over.

 _Oh no_. Falling in love is when she sees right through you. When she’s seen right through you all along and she watched you pick the rose and she begged Morrigan to help you when she overheard you ask Leliana what you should do and she was waiting until just the right moment for you to give it to her, not too happy and not too sad and not at night or in the day. And love is taking the rose and placing it next to your mother’s amulet that she hasn’t had the courage to give to you yet until she finally plucks up enough to hand it to you with a shy smile and forlorn eyes because she knows what loss feels like and falling in love. And it’s pulling her into your arms and kissing her without a care to your companions and it’s how you can’t stop smiling for days after because Maker she is beautiful and you are a lucky man. And falling in love is her gently leading you into her tent and kissing you until you can’t take it anymore and you’re sure it doesn’t get better than this but _Maker it does_ and falling in love is holding her in your arms and watching her sleep because you’re afraid if you close your eyes you’ll wake up and it will all be a dream.

Love is that instant when you see the rose growing through the Blight and your first thought is of the beautiful and quiet woman you just met and how you think she would like it even though you’re not sure she has ever even seen a rose before and do you give flowers to dwarves? Love is when you bend down and pluck it even though you’re not sure but there’s this voice somewhere deep within in you telling you that you are.

“Oh no,” you say as you look at the flower, and the witch stares at you with the quirk of an eyebrow. “I think I’m in love.”


End file.
